


KISSIN' KANSAS COUSINS

by Catlixe



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Digitally Edited, Drawing, Fanart, M/M, Story, The Wild West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3679461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catlixe/pseuds/Catlixe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today, tomorrow, and the strings of moments in between.<br/>Moments without amnesty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	KISSIN' KANSAS COUSINS

**Author's Note:**

> Heyes' actor. Is there anyone out there who doesn't prefer Peter Duel's Heyes?  
> It was a long time ago and I was far away from home. I discovered ASJ. The chemistry between the two men was heat and bubbles. The show tickled one of my kinks: attractive men teetering on the cusp of redemption. I needed my daily shot.  
> And suddenly, overnight: Where was Heyes? Who was this dark haired person who had suddenly materialized out of nowhere? Another heretofore unknown cousin with an identical name? (And, mentally stumbling): He *is* Heyes?? What happened to the real one, the blond one?  
> My first was Roger Davis' Heyes. The other one was the "unexpected replacement." Which is so unfair, but I learned who, why and in what order much later. Syndication had looped seamlessly. The damage was done. To me, Roger Davis had turned into Peter Duel under my unwilling eyes. I watched the rest because, hey, Kid Curry was still there and he still had a partner he loved.  
> Sometimes, only frustration at not finding stories in your fandom when you most need them will drive you to write. No matter what you think of your ability to do so.
> 
> So here, edited from No Holds Barred 5, May 1994, is the result. And here is my drawing. Edited too.

  


* * *

**[Show's Voice-Over Prologue]**  
Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, the two most successful outlaws in the history of the west. And in all the trains and banks they robbed, they never shot anyone. [...]

**[Cut to sheriff's office, wanted posters on the wall]**  
Sheriff Lom Trevors: The governor can't come flat out and give you amnesty now. First you got to prove that you deserve it. [...]

**[Cut to Thundering hooves of a posse in hot pursuit]**  
Kid Curry: I sure wish the governor'd let a few more people in on our secret!

  
[](http://i58.photobucket.com/albums/g256/Casperle/ASJ_450_catlixe_zpsp3g6ax12.jpg)

  
**Alias Smith and Jones _ starring Ben Murphy and Roger Davis**  


  


* * *

The spine-jogging trot of his horse kept him awake. The animal's heavy ironed hooves struck with relentless unconcern the dirt of the road that led from one typical Midwestern town to one presumably just as typical, merely a different one. Sweat vas trickling down his brow, stinging his eyes. His shirt was damp, and the sun was beating like cavalry charge drums. Heyes had known worse, of course, and had he not been so tired, he wouldn't have felt so uncomfortable and irritated now.

The Kid was taking everything in stride, and looked disgustingly chipper. Of course, he had not spent the night awake in a local jail trying to defend his virtue from a hoard of inebriated dim-witted cowhands. The local deputy sheriff, who was supposed to keep an eye on things, had been soundly asleep the whole time. With no reason not to be. So long as no one screamed, where was the emergency?

A quandary indeed: scream for the deputy sheriff for help before things turned ugly, or avoid drawing the attention of the law. Was that a Heyes & Curry Wanted poster pinned over there on the wall? He couldn't see it properly.

So he had had to spend the whole night slapping, elbowing and kicking away large, meaty, octopus hands. He could have sworn there had only been four bushwhackers with him in the cell, four bushwhackers ripe as polecats and ugly as mud. How could they account for the army of roving hands that had victimized him? But he avoided striking where it would have hurt most: better let sleeping sheriff deputies lie. Especially those he had the vague feeling he had seen somewhere before.

But, lately, he had the feeling he had seen most lawmen before. He also felt that he walked around with an invisible flag that only bounty hunters could see. And he could still hear his cellmates' whisperings: "Don't got to be shy, preedee thing, why don' you have a cigar? My cigar? Eh eh eh! I'll make you feel better. You'll see..." "Now, I know an arse that's made for cornholin', eh nancy-boy? Lemme plug your 'ole... Ya'll love it..." "Naw, you don't got to let fine fellows like us go beggin'. We know your kind, eh, pretty boy?"

Heyes did not know how those notions had gotten into the pickled filth they used for brains. But notions like that often went into the head of lonely, frustrated, violent jackasses. Especially in penitentiaries. He'd heard of that. Drawbacks to being a fastidious good-looking blue-eyed blond were a-plenty. Let alone to being two fastidious blue-eyed blonds, he thought to himself, stealing a sideways glance at his companion, riding beside him.

As long as he had a gun, the Kid's abilities were always an advantage, Heyes reflected. Everybody could understand a fast draw. But a keen mind was often useless against one-track minded morons. Which brought Heyes back to the night in the cell. Stupid to get caught as an innocent bystander in a local saloon brawl caused by crazed randy ranch hands on a spree.

Heyes had invited himself to a table where the poker winnings seemed to be promising. The commotion had crashed into their table full blast, sending it flying, cards, stakes and all, as two disheveled yahoos grappled with each other. The Kid and Heyes' funds were low. They could not afford to lose the stakes Heyes had so flashily put on the table to make believe he had more to back it up. So Heyes had scrambled towards the money scattered around the broken table, but so did quite a number of people who had not been sitting at the game to start with. In the scuffle that followed, more furniture was destroyed, and the law, staunch ally of order and saloon owners, intervened. All those remaining standing were scooped up to cool off for one night in the local jail.

Heyes had no idea where the Kid had been during that time. Probably sound asleep in their shared room. Which made Heyes' temper even fouler. It didn't improve during the long ride.

"Actual work... We've got to find actual work, Kid!" Heyes moaned.

The Kid tut-tutted condescendingly. "You're in a bad state, cousin. That's not like you."

"We're not in that much of a rush, are we? Let's find a nice clear stream. Wash, rest, eat, sleep. We've got beans, jerky and coffee grounds. A bag of apples too. And some biscuits."

"What money did you shop with?"

"Gentlemen don't ask."

"Jed??!"

"Bet... I won a bet. What did you think? That I backslid?" Curry chuckled. Heyes relaxed and smiled back at him.

They rode the best part of the morning, as they felt it wiser to leave that town as far behind as possible. It had been hard on Heyes though, who was now swaying dangerously on his saddle as he kept on waking and falling asleep. At long last, they reached a clearing and a river. A good place as any to consider the day's riding done. They climbed from the horses and tied them. The shade of the trees revived Heyes a bit.

Clothes flying off as they ran, they jumped naked into the water, splashing and dunking each other. Heyes, tiredness forgotten, was enjoying himself. Enjoying being handled, pushed and teased by his cousin. After some unrestrained whooping, splashing, washing, wrestling, and horsing around, they dragged themselves to the riverbank, and laid on the grass to dry in the late afternoon sun. They dozed off without knowing it, without caring, in their cocoon of well-being and relaxation.

The Kid finally woke up, and started to set up camp. Not bothering to get dressed, he cracked out the bedrolls, and gathered some dry wood for the cooking pot. Chores finished, the Kid went to wake Heyes. He was arrested by the sight of his sleeping cousin. Heyes, on his back, one arm bent to pillow his head. He looked so peaceful, so glowingly blond as the sun stroke sparks in his hair. He looked honey warm. He would smell clean. Kid Curry sat down next to him. It started like he just wanted to pet him, but he felt something warm stirring in his groin. He caressed him tenderly, like he would caress a cat. He felt the warm flesh stir under his hand, under his sensitive fingertips as he traced the curves of Heyes' sinews and muscles. Without being quite awake yet, Heyes rose to the touch, so he could strain against it. Heyes woke fully to the arousing warmth of the Kid's wet mouth trailing down his chest, down towards his half tumescent cock.

He mumbled as he grabbed Kid Curry's head, to force him to crawl upwards, and they both melted into a soul-deep kiss. Their cocks, now stiff, rubbed against each other's abdomens. Their bodies were alive with tingling sensations as they rolled together in the grass, grinding against each other, feeling free and complete.

The seizure of climax washed through Heyes. It was through sated eyes that he watched the Kid's face transform itself, for one brief moment, into the face of an angel, as pure as in the pictures their hometown priest had shown him in an old, gilded, illustrated book. He was an angel free from all earthly bonds, his eyes closed, focused on the world inside, the setting sun lighting his blond curls with a halo of light. Heyes felt the Kid's body spasm, once, then again, and again, and the white salty liquid mingled with his own on their bellies. As the Kid slowly opened his eyes, the descent to earth began.

They looked at each other with wonder. How could this world, such as it was, ridden with sin and preachers, contain something as marvelous as the man they held in their arms?

They dozed off holding each other.

Hours later, they woke up hungry. Beans and jerky were soon put in the pot to cook.

They smiled shyly at each other over the meal. They felt close, each ordinary operation an excuse to touch. Heyes was uneasy now, though, as he could not help thinking of what the priest of their childhood had warned them against. All he had _disapproved_ of. Now that the act had found its fulfillment, Heyes could not feel lighthearted about the "abominable abuse" they had inflicted upon each other. These were just words, Heyes knew, but words that wounded him. And more practically, here they were, trying to stay clean to earn their amnesty. Should they get caught, a conviction for sodomy would annihilate any chance of a pardon faster than one for bank robbery.

They rode into town the following morning. It was an average town with all the main buildings in a neat row: sheriff's office, bank, general store, saloon... The wooden façades were brightly painted. Many of the buildings looked new. Obviously a stop-off point hit by a wave of prosperity as traffic along that route had increased. Heyes registered this with satisfaction. Transients and inhabitants alike would be under the flush of euphoria, eager to spend, eager to take unwarranted risks, not least at poker. Exactly the sort of town Heyes liked.

Actually, the Kid and Heyes liked all towns. They liked people. They had each other, they knew that.

Did they need anyone else? They had been on the run so long... two grains of sand in a dust cloud kicked and thrust in all directions by the galloping hooves of a horse... so when they came into a new town, they needed to behave as was expected of two travelling strangers: go to the saloon, chat up whores, do like everybody else. This was necessary, not only because they had to act normal - people who are suspicious don't play cards with you, and poker was their most pleasant source of income - but because... the Kid frowned. He could not exactly say why they needed to mingle. He had never thought about it before, but when he closed his eyes, he saw the grains of sand again, knocked around by the wind... It seemed a pity that two people as friendly and sociable as he and Heyes had to avoid most other folk. It was lonely. They had each other, but it could get lonely, now that the changing times had made it impossible to hide in plain sight and they often had to vanish in the wilds. What with telegraphs, telephones, the photographic files of the detective agencies... That made the official pardon worth striving for, no matter what the terms.

Without knowing it, his worries had creased his brow.

"Heeey, you are thin-king, Kid!" Heyes drawled.

"There's a law against that as well now?" the Kid asked, side-tracked.

"We'll need some funds soon. A friendly poker game should do..." Heyes smiled crookedly at his cousin.

"Something in mind?" The Kid asked, smiling back.

"The usual. I'm feeling lucky."

"Lucky? l'd rather you'd felt sharp-minded. It's better for a card sharp."

"You're not wrong, there, Kid."

oooooooooo

It had been a successful evening. They could take it easy for a couple of days now. They booked into a real classy hotel. At least what passed for classy locally, which suited them fine enough. Outside, they'd have to be careful, they'd have to forget the freedom of the roads and forests.

It was easy, though; by now they were well trained for passing for what they were not.

The Kid smiled again, warmly, but a little self-consciously, and drew his cousin into a hug. Something about their situation, the Kid did not quite understand. Sex between men? Ever since he could remember, he had seen that among cowboys and outlaw gangs. They did it readily enough, but never talked about it beyond coarse jokes. Or sometimes they laid claim to someone younger and defenseless, and always weaker than themselves. In prisons, they were treated like some sort of valued pet or property. Someone to get into fights over, someone to leave you when your funds went lacking. What he'd seen and heard then was so different from this need to touch, to be close, to share and protect... to... to be like man and wife... except that there was no wife...

Their breaths mingled as they trailed slow, caressing kisses on their chin and cheeks. No, he wouldn't like what they were doing to be known. Not by the local sheriff, not by anyone. For all that, "it" didn't bother Kid Curry when he didn't think about "it.”

But Heyes... Heyes who had now closed his eyes, and, his head thrown back, was letting his cousin nuzzle his neck... It troubled Heyes. He never mentioned it, but the Kid could tell.

Heyes had said that the doctors and decent folks had words for what they were. _Uranians_ they called them. And other things too.

But right now, as he tightened his embrace, the Kid would make sure it didn't matter.

Heyes had lowered his head again. Their brows touching, they were looking into each other's eyes and smiling.

  
  


**The End**


End file.
